Dance with a Tiger
by 1732
Summary: O'Brien and Bates are a ship almost impossible to sail. This is just an attempt to explain part of what they think of one another.
1. Chapter 1

Sarah O'Brien valued her position as a senior member of the Crawley household. She'd worked hard to rise through the ranks, and often worried about the day that Lady Crawley would replace her with a younger woman, one more in tune with the newest fashions, and better able to withstand the physical demands of the job. Anything that threatened her position was dealt with swiftly, swept aside so that she could remain safely employed.

Her friendship with Thomas was part of her safety net, a tit for tat exchange of valuable information. When Mr Watson left, and Thomas became Lord Grantham's valet temporarily, he became even more useful, keeping her informed about news from his side of the bedroom door. On this occasion, though, Thomas had failed her entirely. She had no warning, as she came down the stairs with Anna and that empty-headed Gwen. Trouble stood in front of her. She could tell that at the first glance.

For a half a heartbeat, she'd thought it was silver-tongued Daniel, but of course, he was long gone. Good riddance, too. Back when she'd been a girl working for Mrs Holmgren, he'd won her heart. For a year and a half, he'd written her a letter every week, and had one back from her as well.

Then the letters stopped. She went home soon after, only to discover from her sister that he was walking out with her cousin Jane. He'd been seen with her for over a month. "I thought you must have thrown him over", Maud had remarked, seeing her turn white. Daniel himself had no explanation, just an 'I thought you'd figure it out when I stopped writing', as if that was an apology. Sarah demanded and received his letters back, and burned them in front of him. Once her brothers knew what had happened, they waited for him outside of the pub one night, and made sure he couldn't work for a week. That was the end of it. The end of her ever trusting a man to be better than a louse. Jane married a different man a few years later, and Daniel left the area, so she had no idea where he could be. Nor cared, of course.

But no, this specimen merely resembled long-ago Daniel. Same build, same mouth, but a different look to his hair and eyes. Older, of course, but then, Daniel must be older, too.

"Hullo. I've been waiting at the back door. I knocked but no one came." Different voice. He didn't come from anywhere near Downton, from the sound of it. He had to be a new hire. With those clothes, and at that age, he couldn't possibly be a footman. No, this was senior staff, and nothing else. A cane. Had Lord Grantham gone mad, hiring a cripple? How could Thomas have been beaten out of his job by this dandy?

"So you pushed in." She snipped, instinctively covering her shock with an attack.

"I'm John Bates, the new valet." Well, Thomas was going to be right put out, she thought. It would have been far better for her if he'd gotten the position, but it was clear he'd fumbled that, for all her advice. Bates was not an ally, and with those eyes, and shoulders, and, well, she shouldn't keep thinking like that. He was a threat to her equilibrium, and no mistake. The valet was naturally paired with the lady's maid, especially when traveling. While she'd endured Watson and accepted Thomas easily, this man would be impossible.

"You're early." Any time would have been the wrong time, as far as she was concerned.

Then Anna stepped up, introducing herself, and welcoming him. It was just like her. Normally, O'Brien didn't mind Anna, she was hard working and didn't stand for any nonsense. Today, though, her friendliness was an annoyance.

O'Brien sniffed as he limped into the servants' hall. It didn't make him any less of a threat, but it did make him a much easier target, she mused.

Her day got much worse when Lord Grantham came into the hall himself to welcome Bates. Wartime comrades. Lord Grantham had been off in the war when Sarah started working at Downton, leaving poor Lady Grantham with three small daughters and a hostile mother in law. O'Brien found that hard to forgive in him, and here was the man he'd been with. One more reason to see Bates sacked.

Thomas was bent out of shape, of course, complaining to her about 'Long John Silver' when she saw him before dinner. If the two of them couldn't get rid of the interloper by the end of next quarter, they deserved to be stuck with him, she thought.

She made sure never to sit by the man, limiting contact any way she could. It was easy enough to do, as Anna seemed to slide into the chair by his on every occasion. O'Brian thought about warning her off, but decided that Anna needed to learn her own lessons. A man with so little to say about his past clearly had a lot to hide. She saw the way Bates smiled at the girl, and found it disturbing. Anna smiled back, and O'Brien seethed. Couldn't the girl see what he was up to? All that charm was bound to cause trouble. If he'd once smiled at her like that…well, he wouldn't, and she knew better than to let herself be seduced so easily. She hoped she did, anyway.

Assured that Thomas would not let a second chance slip through his fingers, O'Brian started her campaign. She dropped hints to her ladyship, and pointed Thomas at Carson, slowly nudging Bates out of his job.

The stupid man seemed oblivious. As far as O'Brien could tell watching him, he had no idea that anything was amiss. Standing in line while the duke arrived, his arm almost touching hers, she could not stand it another moment. One swift kick caused his cane to sweep out from his grasp, and he fell, satisfyingly on his face. Thomas smirked at her, but she looked down, curious to see how Bates would react.


	2. Chapter 2

Bates' point of view.

* * *

As John Bates settled into the household, he reflected on the mysteries of the staff. Mr Carson was easy enough to understand. He was the standard-bearer, and Bates entirely sympathized with his need to keep the household in order. Thomas, as well, he understood. The man wanted Bates' job, and made a habit of highlighting any failures he had, in hopes of swaying Mr Carson's opinion.

It was the women Bates didn't quite understand. He had no illusion that he could understand women in general. As a man raised without sisters, he never quite felt that he could figure them out. His mother never required his understanding, and Vera was unfathomable from the start. At Downton, the two women that he puzzled over the most were Anna and Miss O'Brien. Anna was a friendly face from the outset, and Bates couldn't understand quite why she appeared so cheerful around him. He decided that she had a kind heart, and, so long as she never knew the worst of him, she would continue to be a friend.

O'Brien was a different sort of puzzle. Like the dark to Anna's light, she had taken against him from the start. She seemed to be friends with Thomas, perhaps that swayed her opinion, but it struck John that there was more to it than that. She reminded him of a wounded animal, dangerous, and ready to attack anything that came too near. She was prickly with most of the junior staff, in a way that reminded him of Vera, a bit. Not that she was like his wife in other ways, he reminded himself. Perhaps she felt that his lameness was contagious, in some way, and avoided him because of that? He supposed it was possible.

Bates shrugged, and gave up on the project. He reminded himself that whatever he thought could be entirely wrong, anyway. It wasn't for him to understand his fellow servants, merely to coexist with them, as well as he could. If any of these people knew him better, they would be far more upset at his presence in the house. Indeed, he would not last an hour. With regards to Anna, he should avoid the temptation to befriend her, if he could, and he should respect Miss O'Brien's need to keep her distance.

It was one bright fall afternoon when the pieces came together for him, rather abruptly. One minute, he was lined up at attention, welcoming the Duke of Crowborough, and the next, his face was in the gravel. Looking up, he saw Miss O'Brien looking down at him, her expression not triumphant, as he might have expected, but almost curious. Something in her expression made him think of a tiger, waiting to see if her prey was going to play dead or fight back. A moment later, she had vanished into the house, and Anna, kind creature that she was, helped him up. The bruises weren't so bad, truly, and he walked back into the house thoughtfully.

The next day and night were taken up with the horror of losing his job, but amazingly, he was reprieved. Anna gave him such a lovely smile at luncheon he was hard put to remain straight faced, and the rest of the day he simply tried to follow Lord Grantham's edict, to say no more about it, and act as if nothing had happened.

That night, he fell into a deep sleep, making up for the tossing and turning he'd done anticipating homelessness and penury. He dreamt that he was back in India, where he'd lived as a small child. He was out playing in the fields, then he became his current age, walking, when a tiger came up to him. The tiger had a wounded paw. John looked at the tiger, hoping it would turn away from him, but it kept coming closer. The wound went from a fresh injury to an old one, the paw half torn off, and the tiger's limp became so severe it could barely walk.

This didn't make the tiger less frightening. It was angry, and shook its mangled paw at John, as if the wound was his fault. John knew that a wounded tiger was very dangerous, indeed. An animal like that had killed a child in a nearby village, before it was killed in turn. The tiger roared, voicing the threat it made. John wanted to step away, but he knew that would encourage the beast to attack. He leaned on his cane, thinking. The tiger wasn't hungry, it would only attack if it thought it had to.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, hoping that would calm it.

The tiger tensed and roared again.

Then John thought he'd heard those words, likely said them a few times himself, shortly before a brawl broke out. Wrong choice. He didn't want to hurt the beast, but that meant nothing.

"I won't hurt you," he said instead, in a gentler voice.

The beast snarled. It limped a few paces away, and John relaxed a bit. Then it leapt at him. John ducked, and the tiger sailed past him. He saw a pistol, and picked it up. Now he could kill the tiger, which had landed on its bad foot, and was struggling. But he knew that a bullet might not kill the tiger, and then he would be in worse trouble. Besides, he had promised the tiger that he wouldn't harm it. He set the gun down.

"I won't hurt you," he repeated.

The tiger snarled again, then vanished into a fog.

There was a knock on the door, as the hall boy woke him.

As he ate his breakfast and later, tidying up Lord Grantham's room, the dream kept returning to him. He decided that it was some sort of signal that he should not try to retaliate against Miss O'Brien. Could he explain this to her? Impossible. She was not going to listen to anything he might say, indeed, she made it a habit to avoid him most of the time. All he could do was remember a promise made in a dream, and honor it, even if the tiger he made it to made him no promise in return.


End file.
